The Return of Souffle Girl
by AMysteriousWoman711
Summary: Clara does something she's never done before: make a soufflé for the 12th Doctor. Post-Xmas special. 12/Clara friendship fluff. Rated T, cuz I say so.


**THE RETURN OF SOUFFLE GIRL**

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**Summary: Clara does something she's never done before: make a soufflé for the 12th Doctor.  
Post-Xmas special. 12/Clara friendship fluff. Rated T, cuz I say so. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. So say all of us.**

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Clara woke up feeling better than she had in a really, really long time...but, for a second, morning disorientation made her forget where she was. She was in a room that looked, for all intents and purposes, just like her bedroom at her apartment...but something seemed slightly off.

She blinked away the fuzziness of sleep, then she remembered...and almost instantly, her smile grew until her whole face practically glowed with happiness. She was on the TARDIS. And it was Christmas Day. And she was traveling with the Doctor again...

Brand new day. Brand new life. Brand new adventures. And she suddenly knew **exactly** what she wanted to do for breakfast.

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But when she reached the TARDIS kitchen (feeling smug because she hadn't gotten lost even **once** this time) she realized that she was feeling somewhat less enthusiastic about her idea. It had indeed been a while since she had even attempted to make one. Her record wasn't exactly motivating...she still had yet to succeed in making one that looked and tasted like it should. But that had never stopped her before...and it wasn't what stopped her now...

It was the memory of her last attempt...it had been on one of her dates with Danny, hoping to impress him, but like so many times before, it went up in a pouf of smoke and the alarms went off, thus sort of ruining the mood...only to have them laugh about it later...Danny was good like that...

As Clara came back to herself, a tear spilled down her cheek, uninvited...and found herself staring blankly at the fridge and cupboards, frozen in place, completely at a loss. Danny...

Damnit, she thought. No. Today is not for sadness. Today is for celebrating. She would do as she had promised him inside that dream and give him his 5 minutes every day...but she was worried that if she did, she might not stop. 5 minutes would turn into 10, than into 20. 5 just didn't seem like enough time.

But she had come down here for a reason. To make a souffle, and she would do it this time! She would be Souffle Girl once more! Today was the day that she would be successful, she could feel it! After all, it was Christmas Day, a day meant for miracles...and frankly, after what happened last night, she was ready to believe anything at the drop of a hat.

And speaking of miracles, one that went by the name of Doctor, chose at that minute, to casually walk in to the kitchen behind her, wearing his black hoodie and sweater with the holes in it.

"Clara?"

And poor Clara, who had finally reached into the fridge to grab the eggs, jumped about 3 feet in the air at the intrusion, turned around in a whirlwind of motion, and grasped her heart as she &amp; the Doctor both watched in slow motion as the eggs hit the floor in a messy SPLAT!

"Oh my God, Doctor! You scared me to death!" She panted, coming back from the shock.

For his part, he looked at least somewhat apologetic. "Sorry, Clara...but uh...what the devil were you doin' down here anyway?" His tone was hard to decipher...slightly curious, slightly amused, &amp; slightly suspicious...in that Scottish lilt that Clara was quickly becoming very familiar with.

The Doctor grabbed a few towels, gave some to Clara and they simultaneously bent down together to help clean up the mess and she started talking in earnest.

"Well, I woke up and I thought I might try to make a souffle for breakfast-"

At the mention of 'souffles', the Doctor paused, staring intently at his companion in a very odd way, eerily similar to their first meeting upon his regeneration.

Clara was too busy cleaning up to notice at first...but when she picked up the mess with the towel to throw it away in the trash, she finally looked up and was taken aback by a strong sense of de'ja vu.

"What? What is it? Why are you staring at me like that? Do I have egg in my hair or somethin'?"

When the Doctor spoke, it was in such a soft whisper, that she nearly didn't hear him.

"Souffles? You're making a souffle?" Then he smiled...well, grinned actually...a very rare sight, indeed. In fact, the last time he let one loose one like this was...well, last night...during a crazy midnight sleigh ride, if she wasn't mistaken...that was the happiest she had ever seen him...until now.

She found herself grinning idiotically too, in spite of herself. "Yeah...I mean...I thought, 'why not? It's Christmas Day after all...it's alright, though yeah? I mean-I don't want to use all the food in your cupboards or anything...and I'm sorry I dropped the eggs, but-"

He interrupted, gently. "Clara...it's OK. Really. It's totally fine with me. Use as many ingredients as you need. The kitchen is all yours today, if you want. For as long as you need it. Just, you know...try not to break any more eggs...and you know, clean it up when you're done...don't wanna walk in here later only to slip on something and break my hip! And then where would we be, I ask you? Christmas would be positively ruined! And I've got stuff planned for today...so don't be too long..."

She glanced at him, trying to judge his state of mind; why he was acting this way-being nice n' all-but was actually having trouble concentrating, and had to look away while he spoke, blushing under the scrutiny of his warm gaze. His usually cold steel blue eyes were utterly sparkling with mirth. It was weird...though, not entirely unpleasant. It just made her stomach flutter a bit.

"T-t-thank you, Doctor. I appreciate it. I promise I won't...er...I will...er...you know what I mean. You know me...I could never leave a mess behind without needing to clean up afterward."

"I know you will...I trust you, Clara...always." She couldn't help but blush &amp; smile at him again.

What the heck was going on in that big Time Lord brain of his? She wondered. He'd been acting so different around her...ever since-no...it couldn't be... Clara shook her head. No way. He didn't-not like that-not **him...right?** But then, maybe what happened with them on Christmas Eve had some sort of magical effect on him? Maybe he's had a proper change of heart(s)...? Maybe their dream confessions to each other made him more open to the idea-nah...that was just wishful thinking...it was ridiculous! Besides, she didn't love him like that...correction—she couldn't love him like that. And he couldn't either. They were friends. And he was 'impossible', after all. But...then again...maybe there was something there...?

And just as she could have sworn she saw -something-like-love- in those old eyes, the moment passed and he coughed, then spoke in his more commanding voice, "But, ehm, anyway...better get a move on! Let me know when it's done, OK? I'm starving!" With that, he opened the fridge, grabbed a yoghurt, and a spoon, then wandered off with it, presumably to the console room or library while he waited.

That's more like it, she thought slyly to herself, rolling her eyes. That's the Doctor she knew...and cared for...more than he would ever know. She finished cleaning up, relieved to find 4 unbroken eggs still in the package, and rummaged around to find all the necessary ingredients. Pretty soon, Clara found herself humming 'Let It Snow' as she set to work, determined to make the best Christmas souffle ever.

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Clara had outdone herself. She really had. The chocolate souffle that she pulled from the oven was, for lack of a better word, 'perfect'. She almost couldn't believe it—that is, if it wasn't sitting on the counter right in front of her.

She'd done it. She'd **finally** made her mum's perfect souffle. After the initial shock wore off, she grabbed her iPhone and clicked a few photos to serve as proof to herself-and everyone else-that she could do it. Had done it. She squealed in delight...and giggled into her hand. Now to show the Doctor...

Oh, he'd be so proud...she knew he would be. And she was trying to imagine his face, his reaction when he saw what she had accomplished...in his kitchen...in his TARDIS. Clara had never believed in signs or omens before...but now? Well...after you travel with the Doctor...it was kind of hard not to. And this had to be a sign...didn't it? But of what-she didn't know yet...but she hoped it meant something good was going to happen soon. Maybe another Christmas miracle? She could really use one, the way her life was going these days...

And that brought up another litany of thoughts. What would she do now? Keep her job at the school that she loved or would she be forced to quit because of how unpredictable her life is? She was technically still on leave for Danny's death. But when that time was over, would she still want to stay there, a place full of memories of Danny? And if she did leave her job, how long would she stay with the Doctor this time? What if he went back to being cruel and cold again? She didn't think she could stomach another big fight between them...granted she felt like she could handle it-him-better now...but still, these kinds of questions and more plagued her mind as she went in search of him.

She wished, sometimes, that it was simpler between them. That she could pretend like she didn't care about him as much as she does in order to distance herself from him and his dangerous life he chose to lead. It would certainly make it easier for her to want to leave it all behind. But the truth was-she wouldn't want it any other way. She liked the danger, God help her. She liked the traveling. She liked the adventures. And more than anything else...as much as this version of the Doctor drove her up the wall with his bluntness and bitter sarcasm-she had to admit that she liked him. Genuinely, truly, fondly, affectionately, liked him...attack eyebrows, bad kidneys, arthritis, and biting tongue &amp; all.

Speaking of his biting tongue, she wondered if, in fact, he would even like the taste of souffles now? Oh God...she didn't think of that before she had made it...what if this body didn't like souffles? What if he had to actually **spit out** her culinary masterpiece? How awful that would be for her to watch? She didn't think she could bare the rejection of it. Not by him. Not on Christmas.

She gulped. Bit her bottom lip. Tried to figure out what to do...maybe she should just leave the souffle on the counter for him to taste at his leisure, without her watching...maybe that would be easier on both of them...after all, she didn't want their Christmas Day together to be marred by something so trivial.

But at the same time...she knew that he was a gentleman enough that if he didn't like the taste of it, he would have the wherewithal to not show it in front of her...or is that just another form of lying? And the last thing she wanted was for them to lie to each other today!

"Clara? Are you alright? You've got that face again...you know, with the eyes?"

Once again, she had found herself lost in wonderland and he had somehow ninjaed himself into the room without her knowing about it. Damn him anyway!

"Oh! Oh, yeah...um...I was just...I was just coming to find you actually. The Souffle's done."

"Great! Fantastic! Where is it?" he asked hungrily.

"In the kitchen...on the counter."

He stopped just before going in, turned to look at her, and motioned with his hands towards the room as an invitation for her to present it to him. "Well...?"

"Go ahead, Doctor. Be in in a minute. You try it first. I'll have some later."

His whole face scrunched up in a frown. "Is something wrong, Clara? Are you sure you're OK? Did the souffle die or somethin'? Is it burnt to a crisp? If so, it's OK...simply try again later...sure you'll get it right eventually..." Ah, yes...more back-handed compliments...wonderful...just what she needed...

"No, Doctor. Nothing like that. Just thinking about some stuff..." She put on a brave smile and changed her tone to a more cheerful one. "You go check it out. In fact, I insist you try it first. I think you'll find this particular souffle to your liking...at least, I hope so."

He scoffed, as if it was an absurd notion. "Don't be ridiculous, Clara. If you made it, then I'm sure I'll enjoy it immensely. So come on...chin up."

At his inside joke, she had to cringe a bit, all the while thinking, 'Really, Doctor? A chin joke? This is such a weird day...maybe he's actually, properly lost it...who knows what those crabs did to his brain?'

Clara hardly knew what to actually say to him then...in fact, she had no come-back for that...except to follow him into the kitchen and grit her teeth. Would he like it? Or would he hate it? Moment of truth...

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She needn't have worried, of course. The moment the Doctor's eyes landed on it, he was grinning from ear to ear and looking very proud, indeed.

"Clara! It's...it's beautiful! I'm very impressed."

"Really? You're not just sayin' that so I don't punch you?" She inquired, one eyebrow raised, smirk on her lips.

"Really, Clara. I can't wait to try it..." He immediately grabbed a knife out of a drawer and a pair of spoons and cut into it...where a trail of warm, molten chocolate goo dribbled downward, but not before the Doctor scooped it up quickly and brought it to his mouth.

She watched him anxiously, on pins and needles...searching his face for any kind of discomfort. But none came. He closed his eyes for a minute, seeming to savor the flavor of it slowly, perhaps cataloging its contents for further study...his face a mask of contentedness...spoon poised in his closed mouth...then he brought it out again and opened his eyes...and there it was again-that warm smile.

Clara felt all her anxiety leave...let out the breath she'd been holding. He liked it. Thank God.

"So...? What do ya think, Doctor? Worth the wait?"

"Worth it, and then some, Miss Oswald. It's just lovely. Very good, indeed. Well done. And I don't say that very often..."

"I know you don't. Alright...my turn. Shove over. I wanna try it now."

"Yes, boss." He moved aside quickly, handing her the other spoon, and allowing her to grab a couple bites before he went back in again.

"Oh my God...it's delicious...wow...amazing...it's sooooo good, Doctor...I can't believe I did it."

"Well, I can, Clara. I knew you would get it eventually. And you did."

They shared a laugh and a smile and dove back in greedily, like two five-year-olds who got into their mother's chocolate cake without her knowing it.

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Roughly an hour later...

"My compliments to the chef, Clara. It's absolutely perfect." He told her honestly when they were done scraping every last bit of it with their spoons until it was practically licked clean, as they sat side-by-side on top of the counter. She handed him her spoon and he placed both of their spoons into the sink, alongside the pan for it to soak.

"Thank you, Doctor. I'm glad you liked it. I know I did."

"Well, now that we're done with breakfast, I think it's time we move on, don't you?"

"I suppose...what'ave you got in mind?"

"Oh, you know...the usual: monsters, running, strange planets, etc."

"Sounds good, Time Lord. Let's do it."

He jumped off the counter-an easy feat, due to his height, and relatively short distance to the floor-helped her off the counter, and motioned for her to follow him into the console room, when at the last minute, he suddenly turned around to face her...causing her to bump into his chest slightly.

"Oof! Ow! Hey! What'd you do that for? Doctor?" she asked irritably.

"I..er...sorry...but ehm..." He trailed off, as if unsure how to proceed, then started up again, "Clara...I'm curious now...and you don't have to answer if you don't want to...completely up to you...but why did you decide to make a souffle, of all things, this morning?"

"Wait...are you asking why this morning? Or...why I made a souffle rather than say, pancakes, for breakfast?"

"Um...both, if you don't mind."

"Dunno. Just felt like the thing to do. Do I need anymore reason than that?" She hoped he wouldn't push her on the issue too much. She wasn't sure if she should tell him the real reason-because she was happy. Because he had made her believe again. Because they were spending Christmas together.

"I suppose not...I guess I figured it was some sort of Christmas-y tradition or something...here I always thought the pudding brains actually **had** pudding on Christmas...thought that was the normal dessert. But I have no objections to this being a new tradition...if that's what you want to do from now? Is it?"

He could be so thick sometimes...he was acting as if he hadn't spent a single Christmas with humans before, and she knew that was rubbish.

"No...not really...I mean, you're right. Most humans do have pudding for dessert on Christmas Day. But I dunno...we could...possibly...turn this into a new tradition...what do ya say, Doctor? I certainly don't mind making them, especially now that I know I can get it right...how about you, though? Do you mind at all?"

"Not at all. So...that's it then. I proclaim that henceforth, all Christmas breakfasts shall be a souffle! And now, Clara Oswald-and Souffle Girl-it is time for us to be off. You ready?"

"Ready." They grinned at each other before pulling down on the same lever that would take them to their next destination, wherever that might be, wherever &amp; whenever they needed to go.

It was amazing to Clara then, to hear him say things like that...he sounded so much like his 11th self just now that it was eerie in a lot of ways...it made her breath catch in her throat in excitement. Not just because they were going on another adventure, but it also warmed her heart even more than it already was...because it was times like this that reminded them who they were to each other. He was still the Doctor, the Madman-in-a-box, her personal hero, the man who willingly put a crab on his face to get her out, and she was still Clara Oswald, his best friend &amp; carer, the Impossible companion, and of course, his Souffle Girl, now and forever.

**THE END**

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**EPILOGUE**

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She thought she was ready...that is, until she realized she was still in her nightie that she had worn last night in the dream...

Meanwhile, the Doctor was fully dressed now, having put on his red-lined suit over his other clothes and was about to open the TARDIS doors to their chosen destination.

"Wait! Doctor, hold on! Wait. I just realized. I can't go out there yet."

"What?" He frowned in confusion. "Why not?"

"Because I'm still wearing my pajamas, that's why!"

He sighed loudly, clearly annoyed at the disruption to his schedule. "It's funny, my mother-in-law, Amy...she said nearly the same thing when we went to Starship UK once. She ended up spending the whole day in it. What is it with human girls &amp; goin out in their nighties? Honestly, it doesn't even matter what you're wearin'. Nobody cares. It's fine...you look fine. Can we go now?"

"Doctor! Argh! It's not **fine**! I can't go out there looking like this...I need to change. It'll take me 5 minutes...and wait—what!? Mother-in-law?"

"Yeah. Mother-in-law. To River Song. What?" He shrugged. "Come on...let's go already!"

"Wait! Hold the phone, Doctor! You...were wandering through 'Starship UK'...with your mother-in-law...in just her nightie? The whole day? Is that right?"

"Yes. What's the problem?"

"Doctor! I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that's really weird...even for you!"

"Why?"

"I...I...I don't...I don't know..."

And for the life of her, as hard as she tried, she couldn't really come up with a reply to explain why it was so weird...or why it mattered anymore...because he didn't see anything wrong with it. That was just him. And it never would matter what she wore...because, as he had said in the dream, "You'll never look any different to me."

"Um...ok...right...nevermind. You're right. Let's go."

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**A/N: It has occurred to me why I'm having such a hard time with recent Who eps: Continuity. Or lack thereof. Ad the fact that Clara isn't Souffle Girl anymore. Plus, I've also noticed that there isn't a lot of 12/Clara love on here right now, so I thought I'd remedy the situation. Hope this fit the bill nicely.**


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